


Damned

by CaffeinatedMoose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Blade, M/M, Not used for intended use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5438759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeinatedMoose/pseuds/CaffeinatedMoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam had to find a way to save his brother. He knew that when they got the mark off, Dean would thank him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damned

**Author's Note:**

> I meant for this to be purely sexy, but then my brain vomited out this horrible angsty thing. Minimal editing on this. Wasn't sure if I even wanted to post it. I'm sorry.

Dean had a problem. Sam was sure of that. But he wasn’t sure how to get through to Dean. 

He’d tried talking to his brother, and Dean wouldn’t listen. “ ‘m fine, Sammy. Nothing I can’t handle,” was Dean’s repeated response, every time. 

Sam knew Dean wasn’t fine, and he also knew his brother would never admit it. The Mark was making him worse and worse every day. More jittery and short tempered, at the smallest things.

The only thing Sam could think of was maybe…some kind of reverse psychology. Shock the urge to kill out of Dean. Associate bad memories or feelings with the Blade, so that maybe Dean would be less tempted to go near it. 

Sam felt sick to his stomach about what he was going to do to his brother, but he was running out of ideas. Dean wasn’t going to like this.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Dean’s eyes fluttered open, and he winced at the bright light overhead. He heard a heavy metal door shut, and when his vision cleared, the first thing he saw was Sam. Behind his brother were the bookcase doors to the bunker’s dungeon. 

“Sam…what’s going on?”

Dean leaned forward to sit up, but found he was held down. He gazed down, and the movement caused his head to spin. Dean shut his eyes tightly while he flexed his arms and legs. His limbs felt like lead. When he finally was able to look again, he peered around the room. Yes, he was definitely in their dungeon. And he was tied down to a cold table. A pillow propped his head up. As if comfort was an issue, considering he was restrained in his own home. 

“Sam, let me up!” Dean slurred out as he weakly pulled at his restraints. “Am I drugged? Did you drug me?!”

Sam frowned as he stepped closer. His eyes were cold, but sad, trying not to show how much this hurt him. Dean felt a draft over his skin as Sam stopped next to the table. Wait, a draft? Dean realized just then that he was stripped down to his boxers. 

“I’m sorry, Dean. I don’t want to do this, believe me. I just don’t know how else to stop you,” Sam finally spoke up, while he rolled up the sleeves of his long flannel shirt to his elbows. He lifted a hand, hesitating as it hovered over a small table out of Dean’s line of sight. A soft metallic scraping noise was heard as he picked up something. 

Dean’s eyes widened as the First Blade came into view. “Sam? Seriously, you better start explaining yourself right now! Are you possessed?!” He worriedly glanced around the room for salt or holy water, anything he might be able to reach. That is, if he could get out of his binds. Maybe if he rocked the table, one of the straps would break when he hit the floor. 

Sam shook his head and undid the first button of his flannel, tugging it and his t-shirt down, to show his anti-possession tattoo still intact on his chest. “Not possessed. I’m trying to help you. Not my best work, I know, but somehow I’ve got to shock your system, make your violent urges go away. I had to tie you down, give you something to settle you, or you’d escape.”

Dean shook his head, and immediately began to rock back and forth, the table starting to rattle and sway. “This is sick, Sam! I don’t know who the hell told you to do this, but this isn’t going to work!”

Sam’s mouth pressed into a firm line as he moved quickly to the head of the table and braced the edges with his hands, the Blade tucked under his arm. He waited until Dean had worn himself out before letting go of the table. He shifted the knife back into his hand, looking down at it before he tightened his grip and brought it closer to his brother’s chest. 

Dean lay panting, watching with worried eyes as the Blade came down and pressed to his skin. “Okay, okay, I admit I need help, Sam, but not like this. We’ll find another way!” He gasped as Sam quickly drew the sharp edge diagonally across the left side of his chest. A small shallow cut bloomed, red spreading more quickly as Dean arched up, yelling in pain. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam repeated softly. He cut another gash, moving this time to his brother’s right arm. “I need to associate bad memories with the First Blade, so that you won’t be able to use it.”

Dean clenched his teeth against a sharper wave of pain, a low hiss escaping. When he could breath deeply again, he stared up at Sam in shock. “What the fuck, Sam? I know you’re into psychology and all that philosophical stuff, but this is just messed up!”

Sam didn’t speak again, walking around the side of the table as he moved down with the knife. He slashed quickly and efficiently, leaving straight shallow cuts down Dean’s torso, pausing as he walked down to the end of the table. Here, Dean’s legs were parted and propped up on footrests. Sam stood between his brother’s parted thighs, head down, eyes closed while he gave Dean a break for a few minutes.

The smell of blood was strong in the air, and though Dean was no longer a demon, his blood still smelled wrong. He still smelled…tainted. Sam breathed shallowly, trying to ignore the scent. It had a faintly dark smell, and it smelled like Dean. It smelled like their lives, it smelled like monsters, and it smelled like home. It smelled so good. Sam hadn’t expected to find Dean’s Mark-infused blood to be so enticing. It was different, rich from the dark urges in Dean. 

“Sam? It’s okay, you don’t have to do this. I’ll stop, I promise.” Dean said weakly, breaking Sam out of his trance.

Sam blinked up at his brother, pale skin littered with thin gashes, blood leaking down his sides. Sam’s heart beat faster. He could feel it pounding in his chest. “No, I have to do this,” He said, taking a slow deep breath, before he moved the Blade to Dean’s thigh, dragging the tip along the tensed muscles there. His hands were starting to shake while he cut another quick mark on Dean’s other leg. The smell was getting so strong that Sam wasn’t sure if he could keep this up much longer. He just…he had to be sure that Dean would stop killing. He knew Dean would hate him for this, but he could also see just how much Dean hated himself for what he had done to many innocent people. He could stand to have Dean hate him, but it was the self loathing that made Sam’s heart break. Dean didn’t deserve to feel like that. It wasn’t his fault that the Mark and the Blade were making him feel that way. He had to do something. 

Sam raised the blade again, but it clattered to the ground, his hands shaking too badly to keep his grip. He opened his mouth to apologize to his brother again, but the smell of the blood only flooded into his lungs. It made him feel dizzy, and he dropped his hands to brace himself, palms falling on Dean’s thighs, slipping in the blood there.

“Shit,” He cursed, as the warm blood smeared on his hands, and he pulled away as if he’d been stung. Faintly he heard Dean calling to him, but didn’t hear what was said until the second or third call. He wasn’t sure how many times Dean had called his name, only that his ears were ringing, and he swore he could hear the sound of Dean’s blood rushing under his skin. Or maybe it was just the rushing in his own ears.

“Sam? Sam! Hey, can you hear me?!” Dean’s voice sounded ragged from exertion, probably from crying out in pain.

Sam shook his head and turned away, walking quickly from the room. “Just…need a minute,” he muttered as he strode down the hall, out into the fresh air in the rest of the bunker. He made it to the bathroom, and locked himself inside, turning on the water in the sink to hot and scrubbing his hands underneath the steaming water. He barely felt the heat, until his lungs had heaved in enough fresh air that his head stopped spinning. He winced and shut the water off, drying his reddened hands on a towel.

There was one more step to his plan, one more thing he was going to do to Dean, to make him shy away from the Blade. He’d gotten the worst part out of the way, but Dean wasn’t going to like this part either. After all, Dean was straight. He was so totally straight that airplanes could probably use him to measure magnetic north. This was going to be a different kind of torment. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sam returned to the room with a wet cloth in hand, and a clear mind. 

Dean lifted his head to watch as Sam wiped down the cuts, flinching as each stung sharply. “The fuck, Sam. Do you have pure rubbing alcohol on that thing?!”

Sam grimaced apologetically as he worked quickly over each red line, wiping away the blood, cleaning each wound. Most of them had stopped bleeding, and the smell of the rubbing alcohol helped to clear the air. “Don’t want these cuts to get infected. Stop squirming, Dean.” Then he set the cloth aside and wiped his hands on his jeans to dry them. He knelt to pick up the First Blade from the ground and wiped it clean as well. He moved out of Dean’s view, presumably back to the table where he’d started. 

Dean heard him set down the blade, and craned his head back to try and see what Sam was doing. “Great, I’m all clean, body and mind. Let me up! I need a goddamn shower to get rid of the feeling of you slashing at my skin!” He heard the snap of latex, some crinkling, and then some more latex. He heard a click as Sam walked into sight again. 

Sam was carrying a small bottle of clear gel. Was that lube? And in his other hand, the First Blade, but did the handle have a condom rolled onto it? Oh god, Sam had latex gloves on. He wasn’t sure entirely what Sam had planned, but he was pretty sure the First Blade wasn’t meant for that. At least Sam wasn’t using the sharp end.

“Not done yet, Dean. Just…well, I won’t tell you to relax, but I will tell you that this part will feel a lot better than the first part, if you let it happen.”

Dean shook his head, starting to wriggle more adamantly against his bonds, the sedative having started to wear off during the apparent first half of his torture. “Don’t you dare come near me with that thing again or I swear to god--!”

His complaints were cut off as a clean cloth was placed over his mouth, his head lifted as Sam tied it behind him. Sam had gagged him. Sam had fucking gagged him! Dean shook his head from side to side violently, trying to slip out of it. He would have some choice words for Sam when he got out of this. His movements froze when he felt Sam’s hands on his inner thighs, surprisingly gentle.

Dean glanced down in time to see Sam pick up the First Blade, slipping it under the side of Dean’s boxers, cutting the fabric in a quick motion. Dean’s muffled complaints and squirming only earned him a smack to the side of his thigh, as if he was a misbehaving animal. Sam didn’t look up while he cut the other side of Dean’s boxers, then pulled them out from underneath him. 

Dean pressed his thighs together, though it didn’t preserve his modesty one bit. He was completely naked for Sam to see, and this wasn’t how he would have wanted Sam to see him like this. Sure, they’d been changing around each other since they were kids, not having the luxury of separate rooms in motels, but he’d never felt so exposed as he was now, with Sam’s eyes slowly sweeping over his body, starting at his hips, trailing up his chest and over his face, then back down again. Dean looked away, feeling his face flush. This really wasn’t the circumstances he’d imagined, when he’d thought about being tied up and naked in front of Sam. Not that Sam would ever know that he thought about that. Sam would be totally disgusted by him if he ever mentioned it.

Sam’s hazel eyes flicked away from Dean’s bare body as he squirted some lube onto two fingers of his left hand, spreading it and coating them. He’d caught the sight of the heat spreading over his brother’s face, but he didn’t show it on his expression. Instead he pulled Dean’s legs a little higher, his free hand then running along Dean’s inner thighs. A small smile quirked his lips as he caught sight of Dean’s dick twitching to life. Maybe Dean wasn’t so straight after all, but he would still never think about the Blade the same way again.

He ran his hand up over Dean’s hip and stomach, avoiding his thickening cock. He glanced up, and tried to hold back a short laugh at the clearly embarrassed expression on Dean’s face. Dean had looked down again, but quickly looked away when their eyes met. His brother’s eyes widened when Sam’s fingers curled around his cock, squeezing firmly. 

“Mmmn!” Dean whined, as he glanced down once more, every muscle tensing. 

Sam looked up at him calmly. “What? Nothing I haven’t seen before or done to myself.” His grip loosened as he squirted some lube over Dean’s cock, before closing his fist again and rubbing the lube up and down to spread it. He smiled at Dean’s sharp intake of breath.

At first Dean gave him an incredulous look, disbelief at Sam’s reasoning, sounds of complaints muffled behind his gag. Then Dean groaned as Sam picked up the pace, squeezing tightly around his dick.

“Bet I know what you’re thinking,” Sam smiled, his other hand reaching under Dean’s balls to feel along the crack of his ass until he found his brother’s warm, inviting hole. “But I don’t see anything wrong with this. If it feels good, I don’t see why it matters if we’re related.”

Dean’s noises ratcheted up into whine as Sam began pressing one finger in slowly, twisting and moving in and out to spread the lube inside him. Sam continued to work Dean’s cock, feeling him relax, and his sounds of complaint melt into soft moans. Glancing up, he smirked at the haze of lust in Dean’s eyes, and he added a second finger, moving them just as slowly in and out of Dean’s ass. He could feel Dean start to tense up from the stimulation, and he removed his hand from his brother’s dick, fingers stilling in him. “Not yet, Dean. Not done with you yet.”

Dean glared down at him, panting behind the gag and doing his best not to squirm. He would never admit once the gag was off that he had been getting so close to coming on his brother’s fingers, and he would never ever beg, but he did want it. He didn’t want Sam to stop. No, he wanted more. He wanted something bigger. Dean tipped his head back, a needy helpless moan ringing high at the thought of it. The thought of Sam fucking him with his likely proportionately sized cock, not just his also long fingers. A shudder ran along the length of his body, and he bucked his hips with a whine.

Sam shook his head and peeled the glove off his right hand so that it wouldn’t slip when he grabbed Dean’s hip to hold him still. Dean’s expression was something between frustrated and needy, eyebrows pressing together in confusion. 

“Sssh…”Sam cooed as he began to move his fingers again, pausing as he added more lube and slid in a third. He spread his fingers slightly, crooking them upwards to rub at Dean’s prostate on the way out. His brother whimpered in pleasure, and then at the empty feeling as Sam’s fingers retreated completely. 

Dean closed his eyes tightly, his entire body quivering with need, too lost in his desire to even tug on his bindings. He needed more. He was so damn close. Why had Sam stopped when he was right on the edge? He faintly heard Sam shifting, and sound of the lube bottle opening again. Then he felt something much firmer being pressed against his hole.

Dean glanced down. Sam was holding the First Blade by the base of the handle. Though the condom helped smooth the rough edges, it didn’t feel near as nice as Sam’s fingers had. In fact, the end of the handle was a little wider, and he didn’t seem to be stretched enough to get it in. Sam slid two fingers into him and spread them, easing him open while he gently nudged the handle between them. “Come on, Dean. You can take it. And once I get this inside you, you’ll never be able to think about using it to kill ever again.”

Sam pressed three fingers into him again, scissoring them and adding more lube, then withdrawing down to just one so that he could ease the handle in. Dean, meanwhile, tried to breathe deeply. The way Sam talked about this as if it was just some kind of conditioning reminded him that this wasn’t originally meant to be pleasure. It was just Sam’s twisted form of reverse psychology. 

Dean whined as the handle of the blade finally slid past the ring of muscle, having tightened down a bit after he started to remember why he was here. Then Sam was taking his cock in hand again, stroking slowly as he pressed the handle in gently. “Hey, Dean. It’s okay. It’s in. Knew you could take it.” Sam smiled as he looked up, pleased that he was able to get the handle mostly inside, only an inch or two staying outside of Dean’s body. 

The look on Dean’s face broke his resolve. Dean looked…entirely betrayed. Hurt. Confused. By the resistance when Sam tried to pull the handle back out, he could tell Dean had clamped down. Dean was thinking too much. “You were almost there, relax. I’ll get you there again.” Sam wrapped a towel around the sharp end of the blade, then rested the covered tip against his thigh while he leaned forward and pulled the cloth away from Dean’s mouth, replacing it with his lips. His brother was caught entirely by surprise, but slowly began to relax, tension melting as Sam kissed him. Dean’s lips moved with Sam’s, a soft sigh of pleasure escaping. 

Sam pulled his hand away from Dean’s cock, moving back to the Blade and nudging it forward just a bit. This time, Dean moaned softly, hips pressing up towards it. Sam shifted his grip to the hilt of the Blade and withdrew it slowly, moving in and out.

Dean didn’t notice the rough shape of the handle anymore, especially after Sam tilted it to angle it against his prostate. His muscles went limp, relaxing into the pleasure, only leaning up and into the heavenly taste of his brother’s mouth, while his hips stilled, allowing Sam to move the handle inside him. 

Sam slowly straightened up, breaking the kiss to watch the pleasure on Dean’s face as he started to get close to orgasm once more. Without the gag, Dean’s moans echoed into the room so much more beautifully. He’d heard Dean jerking off across the room when they stayed together in motels, but never had he heard Dean make sounds like this. 

Sam leaned down, trailing kisses along Dean’s chest and stomach until he reached his cock, lifting his hand that had held Dean’s hip to curl it around the base. He flicked his tongue over the head before taking it into his mouth. Dean cried out as he went down, tongue rubbing along the shaft as he sucked. Dean was starting to tense and shudder under him again. 

Sam increased the pace of the Blade handle inside him, and he bobbed his head, making a soft pleased hum at the taste when he caught a few droplets of precum on his tongue. 

“Fuck...!” was all the warning Sam got before his mouth flooded with Dean’s come, hips bucking into his mouth. Sam pulled away and spat on the floor of the dungeon, turning to wipe his mouth on his sleeve. He slowly pulled the Blade from inside Dean, setting it down while he walked away to pick up a bottle of water. 

Taking a long swig, he looked back towards his brother. “Never get used to that taste.” Then he picked up a clean towel, and poured some of the water onto it, using it to clean the lube and stray come away. Dean looked away, refusing to meet his gaze, his face tired and otherwise unreadable. Even without the gag, he was silent. Sam frowned. “I’m going to undo the cuffs, okay? Don’t get up too quickly.”

Dean just rolled his eyes. As the rush from his orgasm began to fade, the reality of it all was starting to come back to him again. What he really wanted to do was punch Sam, but he didn’t have the energy right now to start a fight. They’d probably just end up never talking about it, and Sam still thinking that what he’d done was right. 

When the cuffs were undone, Dean slowly brought his arms forward, stretching them and them hugging them to his chest with a wince. His shoulders fucking hurt, and the movement made some of his cuts start to reopen. He started to sit up, and immediately regretted it, as all his muscles complained, and he was immediately light headed. He swayed, and felt Sam’s arms around him, stopping him from collapsing. His head spun, probably a combination of exhaustion and blood loss, coupled with one of the most powerful orgasms he’d had in a while. One he wouldn’t forget. He wasn’t sure if he could think of it as a good memory or not. It wasn’t like he’d had a choice. “Lemme go, Sam. I can get dressed fine.” He mumbled, pushing weakly at Sam’s chest.

Sam instead shifted one arm under his legs, and without a word, lifted Dean into his arms. Dean grumbled but lay limp against him, too weak and dizzy to bother with struggling. He was too tired to be angry right now.

Dean was carried through the bunker and laid down on his bed. Then, Sam was pulling a t-shirt over his head, and some soft pajama pants over his legs, and the blanket up to his chest. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” Sam said, as if nothing was wrong. He kissed Dean, as if he hadn’t just completely violated his brother tonight. Dean was out before the door closed. 

Sam padded down the hall and into his own room, stripping off his clothes and slipping into bed. He knew Dean was going to be upset in the morning, but he didn’t mind if his brother hated him. He had to save Dean, no matter what the cost. He knew that when they got the Mark off Dean’s arm, when Dean was himself again, he’d thank Sam. 

Sam was doing the right thing. Sam loved his brother, and he had to save him.

He had to find a way to bring his brother back.


End file.
